


My Father's Bride

by waterflower20



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Occasional OOCness, keep an open mind till the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-16 06:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterflower20/pseuds/waterflower20
Summary: When Lucius announces to Draco he's seeing Hermione Granger, the last thing Draco wants, is to spend time with his former nemesis. Especially when his father admits he's planning to make Granger the new Lady Malfoy. But Hermione is not the same girl he grew up with, and feelings soon start developing between them. AU, EWE.





	1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing, but the plot.

**A/N:** Some notes for the story: 1) It takes place ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts, with the Prologue set nearly a year in the 'future'. To keep up with the time line, please make sure to read the dates each chapter/scene takes place. 2) Most of the chapters will be from Draco's point of view, so his perception of unfolding events will be influenced by his personal feelings and ignorance of other people's motives. For example, when Snape killed Dumbledore, Albus pleaded with him; now, because we, as readers, watched the scene through Harry's eyes, we thought Albus was pleading for his life. But when we saw Snape's memories, we learned that Albus was really pleading with Severus to kill him. So keep that in mind when you read the story and try to withheld judgment until the story is complete. I promise, everything will make sense then.

**_*Blaise says a line from Order of the Phoenix, which I, obviously, don't own.*_ **

_**My Father's Bride...** _

_**Prologue** _

  
**_Saturday 26th, September 2009_ **

**_Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire_ **

“How are you holding up, mate?” Blaise Zabini's voice, laced with amusement – probably at his expense, the right bastard! – penetrated his thoughts, forcing him to look up; the tall, dark skinned, Italian wizard, dressed smartly in a dark blue Muggle tuxedo, had sidled beside him without him noticing.

Above his friend's shoulder, Draco could see all the young, single witches in attendance paying them extra attention, probably at the urging of their desperate mothers; it was a shame really that neither Blaise nor he were particularly inclined to pay them much attention.

A flash of familiar platinum blond hair caught his eye from the other side of the room; his body tensed unconsciously, but as hard as he tried, he could not stop his eyes from zeroing in on his father and his partner.

Unlike most wizards in attendance, Lucius had chosen traditional but fashionable, black wizard robes for the occasion, his long hair tied in a low ponytail with a green ribbon; probably to match his lovely date's dress.

His eyes followed the petite witch as she danced, her dress hugging her body sexily, her movements as fluid and graceful as Lucius'; honestly, they were a lovely pair, even he had to admit that. He bit back a snarl when he saw Lucius's hands travel a little lower than it was appropriate as the song slowly came to an end.

“Just _peachy_ ,” he spat in answer to his friend, raising his champagne glass and swallowing the bubbling, gold liquid in one go, his eyes never leaving the young brunette as she curtsied to his father. A muscle in his jaw ticked when Lucius kissed her hand in a gentlemanly fashion before he led her to a group of a few close associates of his, and their dull wives. He deposit his empty flute on a floating tray near them, grabbed a tumbler of firewhiskey and drank that as well.

“Easy there, mate,” Blaise cautioned, grabbing his wrist when he reached for another tumbler. “Lucius won't be happy if his only son causes a scene today of all days.”

An inelegant snort escaped him.

“He does not need _me_ to embarrass him, he does a fine job at it on his own,” he sneered, clearly agitated.

“That's not the point –“

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously before he pushed him aside, and swept out of the grand room without a backward glance.

Blaise swore under his breath and made to follow him; the feeling of eyes on him stopped him before he reached the French doors though, and he looked over his shoulder; cobalt blue met amber.

For all intents and purposes, the witch seemed to be in deep conversation with the hideously dressed witch at her side, but her eyes – dark, remorseful – were on him. He would gladly bet his sizeable inheritance that like his miserable sob of a friend, she had been staring at Draco whenever the blond wasn't watching her.

The two of them were so pathetic, it made him want to puke.

The urge to march to her, and demand she go after Draco herself was strong, but he stomped it down, knowing it was futile; yes, the witch might share a large portion of blame for their current predicament, but Draco had not gone into this mess blind. He had known his actions were wrong, yet he had dived into this mess head first, without once pausing to think about the consequences like a damn Gryffindor.

They were equally to blame, but tonight – _especially tonight,_ – was not the right time for a scolding; tonight Draco needed someone to be there for him for he had yet to hit rock bottom. Tonight, Draco needed a friend.

Throwing her a warning glance, he turned and followed his friend out the doors; the balcony that overlooked the gardens was empty of course. Draco wouldn't lounge there, not when anyone could have stumbled on him and interrupted his pity party.

No, pathetic as he might be, his friend still had his pride.

Sighing, he climbed down the marble staircase, silently pondering about the rest of the night; thoughtlessly, he walked perimetrically of the infamous labyrinth gracing the Manor's grounds since before Lucius was born, instinctively knowing where his oldest friend had sought refugee.

His instinct proven right – really, Draco was awfully predictable most of the time, not that he'd tell him that – Blaise let out a quiet sigh of appreciation.

The night was unusually warm for the season, and the half moon cast the clearing in a soft light as the tranquil lake reflected the moonlight; Draco sat on one of the stone benches surrounding the shore, his long legs outstretched in front of him, and his arms rested across the back of the bench. He had taken off his suit jacket, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but his face was pensive as he stared at the still waters, his grey eyes slightly obscured by his long fringe.

A twinge of attraction trickled down Blaise's spine, but he quickly squashed it down; this was not a road neither of them were willing to travel. It spelled heart break for both of them but for different reasons.

The blond wizard didn't look startled when Blaise sat beside him; he let out a deep, suffering sigh, his expression resigned.

“You know, you are very inconsiderate right now,” he jokingly commented, not taking his eyes from the lake. “Shouldn't you be back there, showing your father some support?”

He knew of course the reason behind Draco's behaviour, but he would not breach that topic until he brought it up himself; so far, Draco had refused to admit the truth, even to himself. If he wanted to move on, he had to come clean.

“Support?” he sneered, ignoring Blaise's eye roll. “For what exactly? Tarnishing our family name? For betraying my mother – “

“Narcissa died years ago, Drake,” Blaise interjected calmly. “And have you forgotten your promise to her? Her dying wish?”

“No, I have not,” Draco hissed, finally turning to look at him. “She asked us to live our lives, yes, but she never said she wanted him to remarry! Especially someone like… like _her_!”

“And pray tell, what exactly do you mean by that?” he asked, his amusement thinly veiled. Draco was _almost there_ , he just needed a little help pulling the last of his head out of his arse. “Because I gotta tell you, Drake, from where I'm sitting, your father couldn't have landed a more perfect witch.” Lifting a hand to silence his friend, he started ticking off said witch's attributes. “She's fucking brilliant, we all know that, she's better connected that you or your father, she possesses a sizeable fortune, she's well spoken, beautiful, kind but not a pushover, ruthless when she has her mind set on something, and let's not forget the fact that marrying into your family, she automatically ensures your name regains its former glory.

“Merlin's beard, did you know that since she started dating your father, your popularity has risen twenty points in _The Daily Prophet's_ monthly polls?

“After tonight, who know what will happen?

“And don't even start on the blood purity bullshit. I know you know better. After all, Sofia, Melissa, Anna, they all were Muggles, am I correct?”

Draco remained stony faced and silent throughout Blaise's speech, his eyes passive, and mouth tight.

“So I ask you again; what the fuck is your problem, Malfoy? Really?”

His eyes flashed, he opened his mouth to answer –

_Pop._

They jumped, startled at the sudden appearance of the tiny creature in front of them.

“What?” Draco barked, unable to contain his dark mood.

The petite elf bowed respectfully, his big ears trembling at his angry tone.

“Master Lucius requests you goes back inside, Master Draco. He's very angry, he is. And Miss Her–“

“Fine,” he snarled, waving the small creature away. “I'm coming back, Tipsy, you can go.”

He stood up as the elf disappeared with a _pop_ , grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on easily, before starting toward the Manor, not bothering to check if Blaise was following.

“Can't even stand to hear her name, mate?”

“Shut the fuck up, Blaise. You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“You know what?” Blaise asked, reaching out to grab Draco's forearm, and forcing the blond to stop and face him. They locked eyes, furious grey, and blazing blue. “You are absolutely right; I have no idea what I'm talking about, because I have no idea what the fuck happened between you two. Granted, I have my suspicions, but that's all they are; suspicions. You know why? Because you never told anything to me, or Theo; your supposed best friends, Draco! All we have to go on are Astoria's claims, and trust me, that bitch had a lot to say about you, and your future step mother!”

“Don't call her that!” He wrenched his arm free from Blaise's grip, and glared at the taller wizard.

Blaise rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Come on, mate.” He groaned. “Ever since you got back from Greece, you've both been acting strangely; you avoid each other, and ignore each other whenever you are in the same room."

“So?”

“So,” Blaise said, teeth clenched. “Mate, you **_always_ ** had something to say to her. Always. You loved arguing with her, rallying her up, even when you actually agreed with her on something, you'd start debating just to mess with her. Merlin, Draco, I've never seen you behave that way with any other witch! She's the only one who made you _laugh_!” His mouth pinched, his eyes darkened. “Mate… When you were with her, you…”

Draco felt his mouth going dry, his heart beating a tattoo on his ribcage; his eyes burnt, and he hated himself for it, for being _weak._

No, _no._

He hated _her. She_ had done this to him, turn him into this pathetic, weak excuse of a wizard. She, with her brunette curls, her warm, amber eyes and luscious mouth that always seemed to smile; she, with her wit, and fire, and her kindness, she had unravelled him, and he had been left to burn in the aftermath, whilst she moved on, leaving him behind.

But most of all, he hated the fact that hating her was a fucking lie.

“What? I was what, Blaise?” he asked, tiredly. He was too damn tired to fight back, to argue or deny the truth. Blaise was too smart to be fooled after all, so what was the point of hiding behind a lie?  
A lie he didn't even believe himself? No matter how much he wished was true.

After a short hesitation, Blaise looked away, “When you were with her, you were full of passion, life… I've never seen you so alive when you argue with someone.”

Finally meeting his childhood friend's eyes, he finally asked the question they both knew the answer to.

“You are in love with her, aren't you?”

Draco looked away, his eyes narrowing.

“Blaise –“

“Draco.”

Lucius Malfoy stood on top of the balcony staircase, his hair a halo as the light from the ballroom illuminated him from behind, and his cold, grey eyes on them, icy disapproval simmering in them. Blaise hadn't even noticed they had reached the Manor.

“Father,” Draco coldly greeted him.

“Come,” Lucius said curtly. “It is time.”

Without another word, he span around, his robes swirling behind him, and entered the enormous ballroom.

“You might not like your father very much, Draco,” Blaise whispered as they climbed the stairs. “But you've got to admit, the man has style.”

Draco cracked the first honest smile of the evening, which got wiped off when they entered the opulent room, and saw Lucius standing on the raised platform where The Weird Sisters had been performing all night.

But it wasn't his father that held Draco's attention; it was the small figure beside him.

Considering how conservative most of Lucius's friends and colleagues were, Draco was surprised she had been allowed to wear that little number she had on; the green frock, obviously a nod to the family's affiliation to the Slytherin house, – was floor length, with a daring split all the way to her upper thigh. The spaghetti straps led to a dangerously low cut neckline, and criss crossed to the back, exposing her back all the way to her waist. Her legs looked even longer in the black, ankle strap sandals she wore.

Her cascade of brown curls had been twisted into a messy French twist, a few wisps framing her face; the only jewelery she had on was a diamond and emerald necklace, which drew attention to the soft swells of her breasts.

His heart had kicked violently when he saw the necklace; it had been a birthday gift… from him. Seeing it on her neck as she stood by his father… He'd felt nauseated.

Even from across the room, he could feel how nervous she was, with all eyes on her; her tiny body was unusually rigid, her chin raised in stubborn defiance, her eyes challenging the strangers to judge her for being there, with Lucius Malfoy.

Draco knew he was the only one who noticed her startled jump when his father wrapped a casual arm around her slender waist, a smirk gracing his lips; his gut twisted, his heart beating wildly when her eyes, wide and anxious, scanned the room before colliding with his, a silent apology simmering in the amber depths.

_Warm, moist lips moved against his, a petite hand tangling in his hair, while the other hesitantly traced his wet abs... a groan as he pressed her harder against the wall, her whimpers falling in his hungry mouth as he reached down to grab her silky thighs, and lift her off of the floor, forcing her legs to wrap around his waist, crushing her small body on the wall... the sound of ripping fabric as he tore her white sun dress off of her body, and feasted on her heaving breasts..._

“Ladies, and gentlemen –”

His father's voice brought him back to the present rather forcefully, and he inhaled sharply, fighting down the waves of raw lust that assaulted him at the sensual memory. Guilt gnawed at his insides, and he shut his eyes, knowing what was coming.

“I am sure many of you wondered at the reason of his event,” Lucius waved an elegant hand around the room. “Truth is, I, no we – “he pulled her closer to him, his smile growing wider. She tried, unsuccessfully, to match his smile but Draco knew her honest smile. “We have an important announcement to make, so I thought, what better way than to have all our friends here? Save us the trouble of sending each of you an owl!”

A few chuckles in the crowd made Draco roll his eyes; really, his father had never been good with speeches, which was a surprise given his upbringing.

Clearing his throat, Lucius continued. “Yes, an important announcement indeed. But first things first. Draco, where are you, son?”

_Like you don't know,_ he thought, sarcasm twisting his features as Lucius stared directly at him.

“Ah, there you are.” His smile turned warm. “Come up here, my boy.”

_No... Don't do this to me, father, please._

Lucius's eyes hardened in warning, and hers filled with remorse as she realised his predicament. Draco felt his stomach twist, and he prayed he wouldn't make a fool of himself on stage.

“Of course, father,” he drawled, plastering an amicable smile on his face. He patted Blaise's shoulder when his friend squeezed his arm in sympathy, and crossed the room in long strides, a feeling of impending doom weighing down on his shoulders with each step he took.

And when he climbed the two steps to the dais, and stood beside his beaming father, he wished he had been struck dead on his way there.

His memories of her did not do her justice; up close, she was even more stunning in her sexy dress, and the sight of so much creamy flesh exposed, stoked the simmering desire inside him.

_I wonder if she still tast – No! Stop this, right this instant! You are not allowed to entertain such thoughts about her, not any more, you sick fuck!_

“Here, stand by me, son.” Lucius indicated his other side. His father's smile was as genuine as his, and Draco wondered, not for the first time, if Lucius had truly smiled since Narcissa's passing.

Forced to walk around her, he couldn't help inhaling her scent – vanilla, peaches and ink, – and the young wizard had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from reaching out to her; the urge to grab her and kiss her was almost overwhelming.

“As I was saying.” Lucius resumed his speech when Draco was at his side. “After months of courting this lovely woman, and after much pleading on my part, she has finally accepted my hand in marriage. We are to wed before this year comes to an end!”

The news hit him like a brick; he had known of his father's plans to announce their engagement tonight, but he had no idea the wedding was to take place so soon. Knowing his father's expensive taste and preference for grandeur, he would have guessed they'd need at least a year to organise the wedding to his standards.

_It's not like you have a say in the matter,_ he reminded himself bitterly. _And really, it's better this way._

His torment would be short lived; and after the deed was done, he'd not have to interact with her again, with the exception of the few obligatory family gatherings every year.

Looking down at the guests, Draco almost smiled; half of them were staring in open mouthed surprise, and the other half talked among themselves, occasionally throwing quick glances at them.

Blaise, he noticed with annoyance, had joined Theo near the refreshment tables, and they were staring up at him sympathetically.

Sensing _her_ discomfort at the continuous silence, and catching the slight tremble of her hands out of the corner of his eye, he inwardly cursed; at his inability to ignore her when they were in the same room, and his need to ensure her comfort despite his own suffering.

Clearing his throat loudly, he extended his hand to his father, plastering a conciliatory smile on his face.

“Congratulations, father,” he said loudly, trying his hardest to sound sincere.

“Thank you, son,” Lucius said, grasping his hand and pulling him in a hug.

Rolling his eyes behind his father's back, he endured a paternal pat on his back before pulling away, awkward smile still on his face; Lucius stepped aside, evidently waiting for him to congratulate the future Lady Malfoy as well.

Heart firmly lodged in his throat, he gritted his teeth and grasped at the last remains of his self control to keep from screaming, when Lucius gently pushed her forward, and Draco found himself closer to her than he had been since that fateful day nearly a month ago.

He reached out to take her significantly smaller hand in his, and raised it to her lips; it didn't escape his notice that she was shaking, but he was too overwhelmed with emotion to take satisfaction in the knowledge he was affecting her as much she was affecting him.

“Welcome to the family, Miss Granger,” he enunciated clearly, keeping his tone cordial but emotionless.

But when he made the mistake of looking into Hermione's eyes, he saw the same passion and desire burning him up reflected there, and he almost lost all semblance of control.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing but the plot.

 

**A/N:** As I stated in my author's note in the prologue, most chapters will be from Draco's POV, and the prologue is set almost a year after the story starts unfolding.

 

 

_**My Father's Bride** _

_**Chapter 1** _

 

 

**Sunday 19 h, October 2008**

 

Draco perused the wine menu absent-mindedly; he sat in one of the most exclusive restaurants in wizarding London, _Divine Cuisine_ , impatiently waiting for his father to arrive. True, he arrived early, but Lucius was supposed to be there ten minutes ago. In other circumstances Draco wouldn’t even notice someone’s late arrival – unless it was to a business meeting, because in such cases it marked unprofessional behaviour, and that Draco did NOT accept in his colleagues, – but Lucius Malfoy was never late.

 

Also, it annoyed him that his father had stressed the time and then he was the one late.

 

Aware of the waitress – a statuesque red head, with green eyes and a luscious mouth, – fidgeting, he selected a white vintage (his father absolutely abhorred white wines, and Draco wanted to spite him,) and smiled charmingly at the young witch; from her looks, he guessed she was either fresh out of Hogwarts, or she'd be attending her final year this coming September and was hoping to earn some pocket money before then. Either way, he made a mental note to leave her a generous tip.

 

He chuckled softly at the blush that stole her features, clashing horribly with her fiery hair, before she hastily walked away, almost stumbling in her hurry to fetch his wine; used to this kind of reaction from witches, he didn't spare her a second thought.

 

Some would call him arrogant, but Draco had never claimed to be modest – he was a Malfoy after all, and he'd have to be blind or stupid not to notice the amount of attention he was getting from both sexes whenever he walked into a room.

 

At 6'2'', he had a Seeker's lean physique, courtesy of a strict exercise regime and weekly Quidditch matches with his employees and friends (a trust-building exercise that had grown into a routine for them); with his trademark platinum blond hair worn short in the back with a longer fringe, and mercurial eyes, Draco was a striking man. Unfortunately for the witches vying for his attention, he was more interested in his work than a relationship.

 

Of course, his disinterest in committed relationships did not mean the young Malfoy heir lacked female company; he was a young, virile man after all, so he regularly indulged in passionate nights with willing women.

 

Lucius didn't _quite_ agree with his lifestyle, but since he had not given a damn about his father’s approval in years, his life choices were strictly off limits in the few conversation they had over the years.

 

Bored out of his mind, Draco resisted the urge to fiddle with his linen napkin as he pondered his father's request to meet there. For the last several months, Lucius Malfoy had become something akin of a recluse, rarely meandering past the Manor's gates if it wasn't a necessity, and even when his presence was required – AKA Malfoy Inc events mainly, – he only stayed long enough to greet his guests, and chat with his closest business partners.

 

So why had he asked to meet here? _Divine Cuisine_ might boast an enviable level of afforded privacy to its patrons, but reporters and photographers were practically camping on the establishment's front doors for a glimpse of the high profile clientèle, namely Harry Potter and his cohorts.

 

_Could it be the publicity?_ He wondered, so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't notice the waitress's arrival; after three minutes of him looking into space, she had to cough to gain his attention. He did an exceptional job keeping his surprise off of his face as he accepted the glass she offered him and tasted the wine; deeming it acceptable, he nodded at her and watched as she rushed away, his mind already back to speculating about his father's motives.

 

Since his mother's passing, and his subsequent move to America to study, rumours about his tense relationship with his father had been circulating, and neither Malfoy had thought it necessary to do something about it; mainly because most of those rumours happened to be true.

 

Draco's main reason for choosing to study abroad had been his wish to get away from England, and the blind hatred his last name emanated, but his need to distance himself from his father played a huge part in choosing America and not one of the prestigious Universities in the continent.

 

After spending his childhood idolising his father, Lucius' actions during the war – or his _inactions_ to be more precise, – forced Draco to lose the rose tinted glasses through which he had watched his father all his life; and what he saw repulsed him.

 

Lucius had risked everything, their _lives_ , in his quest for power; Draco couldn't, _wouldn't,_ forget the torture that was his sixth year. Months filled with sleepless nights, tears and fear as he struggled with an impossible task, knowing what fate awaited his family when he failed. He couldn't forget about the countless people – _innocent_ people – he'd been forced to watch being tortured and killed for _amusement_. He wouldn't forget the people he'd been forced to torture to prove his loyalty to a monster.

 

When Potter defeated Voldemort, it didn't take long for the Malfoys to be detained and escorted to the Ministry awaiting trial for War crimes.

 

Draco's trial had lasted two weeks; after he had been subjected to numerous Legilimency sessions, and forced to show his memories in front of the Wizengamot, he'd been forced to stand and watch as Potter testified in his favour, earning him his freedom.

 

Narcissa's actions during the Final Battle had earned her a full pardon for aiding and abating fugitives – her sister and brother in law, Voldemort himself, and a number of other Death Eaters, – and participating in a conspiracy to overthrow the Ministry. Their lawyer had stressed how important her lie had been for the outcome of the war; if Lady Malfoy hadn't lie – _risking her and her family's lives,_ _ladies and gentlemen!_ _–_ Potter would have been dead. It helped her case that she'd never been Marked.

 

As for his father, Lucius had known the Wizengamot would not be as favourable; his crimes would have earn him life in Azkaban if he hadn't offer the Ministry a deal. As a member of Voldemort's Inner Circle, he'd had information that would help locate and convict his fellow Death Eaters, so he bargained his knowledge for leniency; he had been sentenced to five years of house arrest, and probation for life after his sentence was up. He'd also been stripped of his wand for eight years, and when that period came to an end, Lucius was required to visit the Ministry every month and surrender his wand for an examination.

 

The Malfoys had also been forced to pay a huge amount of galleons for war reparations, their properties and vaults had been searched and emptied of all Dark artefacts, and all three Malfoys had been required to attend individual and group meetings with a Mind Healer, and eventually venture into the Muggle world.

 

For the first couple of years after Voldemort's fall, the Malfoy name had been equivalent to mud.

 

But even wandless and disgraced, Lucius had managed to do the unthinkable; he had invested all his personal fortune to his crumbling company, Malfoy Incorporated, and hired a team, mainly of Muggle-borns, to find a way to stop Muggle electronic devices from being fried when in a magically charged environment, such as Hogwarts.

 

The company had been near bankruptcy when they finally succeeded. Within three shorts months, the first televisions appeared in the wizarding market, soon followed by cellphones, and stereos. Malfoy Inc. stock prices hit the roof, and investors had fallen over their feet in their attempts to get a slice of the company’s huge success.

 

Lucius’s public profile didn’t fair as good as his company though; hailed as a brilliant businessman, it had been no wonder that he’d been the first to see an opportunity in Muggle ingenuity and technology, and sought to profit from it. But most of the public was quick to point out the hypocrisy of Lucius Malfoy profiting from Muggle technology given his past alliances.

 

Everything changed two years ago, when the Ministry announced a new collaboration with Malfoy Inc. The particulars of their agreement were confidential, but a source close to the Minister had said Head Auror Potter, and Hermione Granger – newly appointed Head of the DMLE, – had both been brought in the meetings.

 

Slowly, but surely, things started turning around for the Malfoy family; suspicion still was the prominent emotion in regards to them, but with each week, the family’s prominence in wizarding society rose. After all, if the Man Who Conquered gave Lucius a second – or in his case, a third – chance, then he must have seen something in the older man that had earned his favour.

 

Naturally, as the market was flooded with new Malfoy products ever other month, Lucius tended to land in the spotlight almost as much as Potter himself; and one of the favourite questions to asked him, was about his relationship with his estranged son. ‘No comment’ was the standard answer, and that didn’t sit well with Draco for some unfathomable reason.

 

In all honesty, the only reason Draco still kept in touch with his father was Narcissa. Money had not been enough to save his beautiful mother from a bad case of dragon pox, and she passed away a couple of years after the Final Battle.

 

Her last wish had been for the two of them to reconcile, and be happy; tears in their eyes, Lucius and his son had promised their beloved Narcissa to try.

 

And he did; try that is. He did try to get along with his father, but it wasn’t as easy as he’d originally thought; amity didn’t come easily to them, and most of the time, they ended up arguing. Lucius couldn’t accept that his son no longer obeyed his commands, and wouldn’t be bullied into following his orders.

 

Their relationship – already strained, – was almost destroyed when Draco had announced his plans to study abroad; the argument that arose lasted hours, some pretty hurtful words were exchanged, and ended with Draco storming out and spending a month in Blaise’s London penthouse.

 

Sin weeks later, Draco hopped on a Muggle airplane for New York, with a vague promise of ‘keeping in touch’.

 

After a few weeks of indecision and partying in Salem, he finally decided on his Major; International Wizarding Law in Salen’s Institution for Higher Magical Education. Graduating with honours, he rounded up with closest friends, Blaise Zabini – a fellow Salem Law School graduate, – and Theodore Nott, graduate of Harvard University’s Law school, and established their own firm; Malfoy, Zabini & Nott.

 

Lucius not once visited him in America and their letters – every other week, like clockwork, – were always stilted, formally worded and lacking any word of affection, as if writer and recipient were merely acquaintances, not father and son.

 

In an attempt to coax a response from his father, Draco had written him about Laura, his first official girlfriend; a fellow student, and a Muggle-born. Lucius’s reply was that in order to catch his eyes, she must be a truly exceptional woman.

 

It wasn’t until Blaise – who, unlike him, spend every Christmas break with his mother in UK, – informed him that Lucius had not stopped his sessions with his Mind Healer that things started making sense. And for the first time, Draco allowed himself to believe that his father was making an honest attempt to change.

 

Lucius earned more favour from the public when he did a complete shake up of his company infrastructure and announced a whole new leading team, among them Archibald Montgomery, Head of the Spell and Development Division, and the newest member of Lucius’s board of Directors, and Penelope Clearwater, Head of Human Resources; both Muggle-borns.

 

Not to mention, than after joining Archibald for a game of golf, the snotty pureblood had become obsessed with the sport, and often joined his subordinate in his Muggle club outside of London.

 

Despite the proof of his father change, Draco had kept his distance; using his newly established Law firm to excuse his continued absence, the younger Malfoy had not set foot on British soil for over five years.

 

But after Malfoy, Zabini &Nott became one of the most known and respected law firms in the States, Zabini started pushing his partners in expanding across the pond, and finally earned their approval the previous year.

 

It took a year for Blaise to find a suitable building for their offices – large enough and in a respectable street that was close to Diagon Alley so both their Muggle and wizarding clientele could access it easily, – furnish it, while simultaneously interviewing hundred of applicants for the new positions.

 

Things became easier after Blaise successfully acquired Daphne Greengrass for the position of Head of Human Resources; Daphne had a knack for finding the right people for a job, and had a long list of high profile connections thanks to her work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic. Additionally, as the daughter of Rodmilla Greengrass, one of the best event planners in the continent, Daphne had excellent organisation and planning skills, which she utilised to organise the extravagant gala in the atrium of their new building to celebrate the opening of their firm two nights ago.

 

The crème de la crème of London society – wizarding and Muggle alike – had been in attendance, Lucius Malfoy among them.

 

The Malfoy men had hugged for the cameras, both pretending it hadn’t been years since they had seen each other face to face; his father had patted his back in congratulations and loudly exclaimed how proud he was of him.

 

When they had parted, Draco hadn't manage to completely mask his shock at finding nothing but sincerity in Lucius' usually cold eyes. After congratulating his two partners, Lucius had promised to have his secretary arrange a meeting so he could sign an exclusive contract with Malfoy, Nott & Zabini, UK, and quietly requested Draco to join him for dinner.

 

Still reeling, Draco had agreed.

 

So here was he now, half an hour after their arranged time, watching the provocatively dressed blonde witch across the room eyeing him like a candy; she was accompanied by an equally impressive wizard, but Draco was certain he could whisk her away if he tried.

 

He was in the middle of licking his lips in seductive invitation, when a familiar voice cut through his musings.

 

“You are early.”

 

Startled, Draco looked up and found his father watching him with an amused smirk on his face. Unlike him, who had chosen to dress in Muggle clothes – grey trousers, white button down, black dress shoes, and grey coat, – Lucius was dressed in traditional, expensive wizard robes.

 

Instinctively, his eyes flew to his father's right hand; his infamous serpentine cane was missing. When asked, Lucius had claimed it was no longer fashionable, but Draco knew it was yet another attempt to distance himself from his past.

 

“Indeed,” the younger wizard murmured, tilting his head. “And you are late.”

 

Ignoring his son's challenging tone, Lucius took the seat across from him, and imperiously waved for the waitress.

 

“Something unexpected came up in the office that needed my immediate attention,” he explained carelessly as an apology.

 

Draco's teeth clenched.

 

“On a Sunday?”

 

Lucius's left brow arched. “Business rarely restricts itself to weekdays, as I'm sure you know.”

 

“Yes, I remember,” he bit out, making no attempt to hide his sour mood as memories of his childhood flashed in his mind. Lucius, although a loving and doting father, had very little time for his son when Draco was a child. The company took up most of his time, and Draco could remember sniffling when his father couldn't make it to a birthday, or dinner.

 

Lucius tensed, clearly understanding his meaning.

 

“Draco,” he started, then stopped. He frowned, watching him with guarded eyes. “I did not ask you here to fight. I apologise for being late, but since there is nothing I can do to change that, can we move forward with our dinner?”

 

Gnashing his teeth, Draco stiffly nodded; although he wanted to leave, he'd made a promise to his mother, and he'd never negate on a promise made to Narcissa.

 

A moment of tense silence.

 

“Have you order?” Lucius broke the silence, accepting the menu from the blushing waitress. Even in his fifties, his father was a handsome man.

 

“No,” he answered, offering another charming smile to the young girl. “I was waiting for you.”

 

Lucius nodded, as if he'd expected nothing else. Draco had to remind himself of Narcissa to stop from snapping something inexcusable. They were supposed to be making an effort.

 

“May I make a suggestion?” Lucius politely asked, grey eyes perusing the selection of the chef's specialities.

 

“Please, do.”

 

“The chef's lobster dish is simply decadent, and your wine selection compliments it quite nicely,” he added with a slight curl of his lip. Draco hid his amused smile behind his menu.

 

“Blaise told me the same thing when he dined here a few weeks ago.”

 

“Mr Zabini does have excellent taste in cuisine. His Italian roots I'd imagine.”

 

Accepting his father's suggestion, they both ordered, and Draco chose a strawberry pavlova for dessert, where Lucius picked an apple and gruyere cheese tart.

 

After their waitress left, a bout of uncomfortable silence ensued; Draco realised with a start that he had absolutely no idea how to converse with his own father. Their interactions after Narcissa's passing were always tainted by remnants of the past, and they always managed to say the wrong thing.

 

Civility didn't come easily to Malfoy men.

 

“So...” he started and then stopped, his mind going blank. What could they say? He lifted his glass and took a large gulp of white wine.

 

“I'm seeing someone.”

 

He almost choked; his eyes widened comically as he felt a shudder shake his body, and he regarded his father with shocked astonishment. His assumptions about his father having an agenda for this very public outing were correct, but he had never thought _this_ would be the reason.

 

“ _What?”_

 

“I'm seeing someone,” Lucius repeated, rolling his eyes at his son's slack-jawed surprise. “Honestly, Draco, can you behave maturely for a minute? The way you're acting, you'd think you were a child, not a grown man!”

 

“Pardon me, father,” he sneered, annoyed at Lucius's condescending tone. “But it is not a common occurrence to have your father tell you he is dating!”

 

“I'm still young, Draco.”

 

“You are fifty-four, for Merlin's sake!”

 

“I am aware, thank you.”

 

Draco spluttered.

 

“That's not _young!_ That's middle-aged!”

 

“I am not a Muggle, Draco. You know very well that wizards live well past a hundred, so I am still on my prime so to speak.”

 

“Dear Lord,” Draco groaned, rubbing his temples with his index fingers. “You are actually serious.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“What about mum?”

 

Lucius' mouth pinched but his words died in his throat when their waitress arrived, carrying their food; mouth-watering aromas wafted from the dishes, but Draco's appetite was lost. After placing their plates in front of them, and bidding them _'bon appetit'_ , she left.

 

Carefully picking his words as he unfolded his napkin, Lucius addressed his son again. “Your mother has been gone for eight years now, Draco.”

 

“So?” he snapped, fighting down his indignation. “Does that mean you can gallivant all over London with some tart?”

 

Gripping his fork tightly, Lucius's cut hard eyes to his only son and spoke through clenched teeth. “Watch your language, boy! You know not of what you speak off!”

 

“ _Please_ ,” Draco sneered. “You were the one who taught me that you only lay with whores, you do not date them.”

 

“I said _watch your language!_ I won't say it again, Draco. If you do not wish for your mouth to be sew shut in public, refrain from using such a vulgar language in front of me!”

 

Incensed at his father for treating him as if he were a mere boy and not a man of twenty eight, Draco fought with the urge to draw his wand and hex the man, but refrained; taking deep breaths to cool down, he realised he was, indeed, acting like an immature child.

 

His control over his temper had always been a sore spot for him, but it was only his father who brought out the worst in him. Quickly swallowing the rest of his wine, he tuned back to the conversation.

 

“I loved Narcissa very much, and I still do, never doubt that. But she's gone, Draco. It might be difficult for you to accept, but I deserve a chance to find someone else. Narcissa would not want me to stay alone until my death.”

 

“Mother would want you to remain faithful!” He couldn't help but snap, refilling his glass.

 

“And I did. For twenty five years I was faithful to your mother. We might not have been openly affectionate, but your mother and I loved each other. And I know what she would want for me now that she is gone,” he took a sip of his wine, his face scrunching up in disgust, before he continued. “Dating another woman, loving her, won't erase my love for your mother or our past. Cissa will always be the love of my life and part of me, and I am looking forward to the day we will meet again in the afterlife. But until that blessed day arrives, I don't have or want to be alone.”

 

Draco's eyes remained on his steaming food during his father's short tirade; despite the feelings of betrayal roiling inside him, he knew Lucius was right. It was unfair to condemn him for wishing for a companion, and Narcissa would not fault him for it.

 

But the thought of someone replacing his mother... It made him queasy.

 

“I do not want or need your permission, son. But I would appreciate your understanding.”

 

“It sounds like you have great expectations from the woman you are seeing, father,” he murmured, finally looking up to his father's face.

 

Lucius's lips twitched.

 

“I do. Our relationship is new, but so far I have found that we are compatible. And I enjoy her company very much.”

 

“How long have you known her?” he couldn't help but ask. Draco was always a curious child, and that particular trait had not left him.

 

Now Lucius did smile, amusedly.

 

“Oh, I know her for a very long time. I'd say around sixteen years.”

 

“Sixteen years!” Draco sputtered, his anger flaring up again. “You just said you were faithful to mum!”

 

“Calm down for heaven's sake!” His father hissed.

 

Draco sat back in his seat, only then realising he had leaned forward. Looking around, he noticed several patrons looking in their direction but the privacy charms placed around each table kept their conversation private.

 

“I said I've known her for sixteen years, not that we've been dating for so long! For Merlin's sake, she was just a girl when we first met!”

 

“A girl?” Draco arched an eyebrow, an ominous feeling making him shiver. “Exactly how old that woman is?”

 

Lucius' smirk was positively wicked. “She celebrated her twenty ninth birthday last month.”

 

“What!?”

 

Part of him wanted to retch in disgust, but another, bigger part of him couldn't help but cheer for his father. He had no doubt his friends would glorify him.

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Very.”

 

“Oh, Merlin.”

 

“What is the matter, Draco? If she is okay with our age difference, I do not see why it matters to you.”

 

“She's my age!”

 

“Yes, I know.”

 

Suddenly, an epiphany put a stop to his thinking process.

 

“She's _my_ age,” he repeated, dreading what he was about to ask next. “Dear Lord, was she in my _class?”_

 

Ignoring the shrill quality of his son's voice, Lucius took a bite of his lobster, and moaned in appreciation before replying.

 

“Yes.”

 

_Shite._

 

“Who is she?”

 

Lucius' smile made him quiver. His mouth felt dry and he reached for his wine again, and that was when his father dropped the bomb on him.

 

“I'm seeing Hermione Granger, Draco. And I would really like if you two got to know each other better.”

 

Wine flew from his mouth and nostrils, and his eyes bulged.

 

“WHAT!?”

 


End file.
